(Freya)
She was already there, waiting in the small, antechamber reserved for the parties involved in the ceremony. The room was stark, furnished with only a simple wooden bench and a small window that looked out onto the temple's ancient grounds. Freya sat perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, the blue fabric of her dress clinging to her body like a second skin. It was elegant but simple, a choice she had made deliberately. No armor today. Just herself. The silence was a heavy blanket, pressing down on her, thick with the weight of what was to come. Her wolf was a restless, coiled thing in her chest, a low, constant thrum of protest that she had been beating back all morning. This is right, she told it, over and over. This is necessary.
When Bradley reached the altar, the offici
